Page 22 of Her Dom's Secret Past

He murmured, “You have the most beautiful breasts, delightfully full and very tempting.”

He kissed the swelling mound and slid a hand between the lacy fabric and my skin, settling his fingers over my nipple, which immediately bounced into his hand. He rewarded me by tweaking and pinching it between a finger and thumb.

“Do you enjoy that?”

I nodded.

“This?”

His grip tightened on my nipple and then he twisted it. I thought I’d hate that much pain, but instead I moaned. I was sure there was a nerve that ran from my nipple directly to my pussy as my clit hardened in synchrony with the nipple. It was amazing. John lifted my boob out and ran his hand up and down and back and forth. He sent me flying, his fingers dancing across my skin. I got goose bumps. My senses seemed to heighten as his fingers traced their way around my breast. It was as if my nerve endings were on fire. I wanted more.

“I like playing with them almost as much as I like tasting.”

He bent his head, took the whole nipple and areola in his mouth, and sucked hard. I was in heaven. I’d never actually gotten very excited from someone latching onto my nipple, but then no one had ever bit or pinched it hard. Obviously, I needed the little pain that John inflicted. I was more aroused than I’d ever been in my entire adult life.

My eyes rolled back in my head when John bit down. I gave a little scream.

“Too much?”

I managed to gasp, “No,” and he went back to licking and biting. His hand wandered up my thigh and dipped down to settle between my legs. He rubbed my pussy through the lace. Between his hand and his mouth, I was sure it would only take me a second and I’d climax.

Somehow, he managed to slip a hand under my panties and began rubbing. It gave me a tingle as my legs drifted wide apart to give him better access, and he took advantage by pushing a finger inside. Another hard bite down as he thrust another finger in, but used his thumb to rub on my clit.

I whimpered. He’d soon have me a moaning mess.

“That’s right, Ana. Let me hear how much you enjoy this.”

There was no way I could be silent as he went back to my boob and used those magic fingers. His hand sped up. I heard the sound of his fingers in my wetness and smelled my arousal—sweet and alluring. I was very wet, as if a tap had been turned on. That thumb on my clit was making little circles and I was helpless to keep quiet. Mewling, my orgasm began.

That sensation as my climax started, that deep shudder, the tensing of my muscles—I wanted it to go on and on. Trembling, I panted loudly, making little “ah” and “oh” sounds until my orgasm stopped and my muscles relaxed. John lifted his head and took his hand from between my legs. Very deliberately, he licked his fingers. Then he kissed me. I could only cling to him. This man was taking me to places I’d never dreamed of, and I hoped they would continue.

“Beautiful, Ana,” he murmured huskily.

When he stared into my eyes, I could have drowned in their depths. They were almost black, like the darkest, richest chocolate, stark against the white. He really looked at me. I thought he could see every hidden detail of my life, could see to the bottom of my soul. He gazed at me as if I meant the world to him, as if I was the only woman for him. I shivered as I felt them strip me bare.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, beautiful inside and out.”

And with that, he kissed me again.

Oh shit, I was falling head over heels. This was going to hurt like I don’t know what if he didn’t want to see me when our holiday was over. He pulled me into the circle of his arms and we sat there in silence. It was wonderful. I could have stayed like that forever. It was as if I was cared for, that I was special. Dare I say it—I felt loved.

I had no idea how long we sat there, but then John stirred.

“I’d better get things cooking or else we’ll be eating raw food.”

He stood and held out a hand to me, pulling me to my feet. We walked into the kitchen area and he dragged out a stool and sat me on it. I watched as he lifted vegetables already cut up from the fridge. Quickly, he set a pan on the heat and began frying off shallots and a little garlic in olive oil before adding small pieces of cauliflower, broccoli, and pumpkin. He let them brown slightly in the pan before putting the pan in the oven.

“I’ll give it ten minutes while I make the rest.”

Cracking six eggs into a bowl, he whisked them well with cream, added salt and pepper, and then grated in some cheese and put them to one side. We chatted about food while he worked. He filled our wine glasses again as we sipped and talked. Finally, he lifted the pan from the oven and poured over the egg mixture, then a grating of Parmesan cheese. Back into the oven for no more than ten minutes.

While the Frittata was cooking, John gathered plates and added a tossed salad to each. After getting the Frittata from the oven, he served a large wedge onto each plate, handed me one, and I followed him to the table, carrying my wine.

It was delicious. The vegetables still retained a certain crispiness and the cheese gave it a nice bite. I told him how much I was enjoying it.

“Do you cook often?”

“Not as often as I like, but once I get home, I intend to devote myself to working my way through the few hundred recipe books I’ve collected over the years. What about you, do you like to cook?”

“I do, but most of the time I only make something quick.”

John had made a self-saucing butterscotch pudding for dessert and when he walked me back to my villa about ten-thirty, I was quite full. At my door, he gave me another lingering kiss before promising to see me in the morning, and then left me to go to my bed.

Okay, there was the slightest amount of disappointment that I had to go alone, but at least I’d see him tomorrow.

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